Adr. Yes. Anarchy of the soul, not of the blood. The anarchy that Christ saw when he said the meek shall inherit the earth. This is the vision before me, the vision that I held before the bleeding bodies in Lonz to-day——
Greg. To the devil with your visions! Man will always be a worm while he crawls! It is those who have remembered their stature that have done most for the race. And I—from under their feet—with Death's hand upon me—I will remember mine!
[Galovkine, who is watching at the door, steps forward, lifting his hand in signal. Instantly the scene becomes one of merrymaking. A man who sits on shelf above stove begins fiddling, and a peasant dances a clog in the middle of the floor. Orloff enters, followed by two or three guards. Vetrova rises to meet them]
Vet. You are welcome.
Orl. A jolly ending to the day, good people.
Vet. We've reason to be merry, sir, as you know, who spared my lad this morning.
Cath. And you too, Petrovich.
Vet. Eh, but I don't count, mother.
Orl. 'Tis sporting time with us too. We are on our way to the officers' ball at Yaltowa. A little gayety after the hard work at Petoff. Glad to find you are not making more trouble for us.